New Year's Address

Just at the close of twelve last night.
The years of sixty-four flight;
With happiness and honest cheer.
We gladly hail the new-born year.

Now ,let us look on old year’s time
And recount the deeds on mem’rys shrine!
At viek-burg with upraised hand,
By Flag and Union swore to stand.
E’re we to slave erats be the slave,
We’d die and fill a freeman’s grave,
Then home we went fast as we could,
Some bid farewell to bachelorhood,
Enjoyed ourselves as solider do,
Then rallied round our starry blue,
With BILLY SHERMAN as our chief,
We’ve done some things beyond belief.

The rebels strong at Rocky Face,
Define the “Yanks” to get the place,
At Dalton, sirs, we did appear,
And to Ressacca we drew near:
The rebels left their Rocky Face,
And ran away in sore diagrams.
Then halting at Altoona they
Did wait till we in Dallas lay.
And Ackworth too we gained at last,
This gave too we Altoona pass,
And next we stood on Ken’saw’s plain,
’Till rebs ’bout face and ran again.
With skillful Joe the “rebs” became
Dissatisfied and sent the lame
Hood; their new chief at Peach Tree Creek,
July twentieth thought to wreak
A vengeance, but ’twas to their cost,
Again the twenty second lost,
And once again the twenty-eighth,
We caus-ed them a bitter fate,
And after that defensive stood,
A waiting what the Yankees would.
We waited for their dire mistake.
They tried our “cracker” line to break.
We hastened to their very rear,
And gained Atlanta as you hear.

Way in our rear Hood struck again.
Our Rail Road was in ashes lain,
We faintly followed as a plan.
To make him think his motly clan
Had drawn us from our southern base.
Nor thought he South would lay our chase.
But so it was; Savannah fell,
Warning the traitors a death knell
To southern Independence; lost
Is Davis and Co., forever LOST.

Hurrah for Grant, he’se not a hater
Of the Union like Mae the traitor,
Nor can the rebels from his place,
The hero of Vicksburg e’er chase.

Old Hood Pressed on towards the North,
While Thomas led the “Yankees” forth,
Who struck the rebels such a blow,
As demoralized our Southern foe;
Those who were there and did it see,
Pronounce it a grand victory.

But grander still it may be said,
The victory o’er the Copperhead (s.)
Who’ve acted the distracted fool,
With platform planned to rain or rule;
But once again the North did speak,
(And sent K. G. C. up old Salt Greek.)

Hurrah for SHERMAN, he’s the man,
Who beeds no party or their clan,
Save that of old Union.
Now may “we’se all Yanks” survive
This the year of sixty-five.
To live with peace in sweet communion.

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